Lucky(23)

Lucky hesitated, then reached up to the back of her neck and unfastened the gold crucifix. She put it down on the counter. The woman took it to the back and returned a moment later. “Same deal, fifty/fifty on $200, or $50 here and now.”

Lucky snatched the necklace back. “I can’t,” she said. “But I’ll take cash for the others.”

The woman shrugged. “Okay. So, that’s $182 total,” she said, counting out cash. With the two hundred from the man’s wallet, and the hundred dollars she had managed to keep hidden from the man who had robbed her, Lucky now had almost five hundred dollars.

She walked outside and stood in front of the pawn shop, refastening the necklace that had belonged to her mother. Finding her mother someday wasn’t a dream she was giving up on, she realized. Especially not now, when she needed the family she didn’t have more than ever. Lucky had no idea where to begin looking for her, she never had—but she was not going to allow the hope that she might find her someday die.

Lucky started walking, headed back toward the train station. If her timing was right, she would reach San Quentin by morning, and walk straight into the last place she wanted to be.





May 1993

BELLEVUE, WASHINGTON



When Lucky and Steph returned home one evening, after a Saturday spent playing with their friends, John and Darla were in the backyard arguing. Lucky froze. What if Darla had found out the truth? “Maybe we should go back,” Lucky said. “Give them a minute…”

“No way. It’s pitch dark now. I’ll be grounded.”

“Yeah,” Lucky said, still hesitating at the gate. “But—”

Her father’s voice rose up in the darkness. “She’s my daughter, and I’ll decide which doctor she goes to. She has her regular appointment in two weeks’ time, and I’m taking her, and Darla, you don’t need to worry—”

“I’m not worried about you going on a road trip, Virgil, I’m worried about Andi! She needs to be observed more frequently than once every few months, by a doctor in a different state. I’m telling you I’ll pay for it. You don’t have to worry about money. You’re here now—I want to take care of you, of both of you. Why won’t you let me?”

Silence. The sound of crickets. A door slamming, which Lucky realized was Steph’s back door. Her father was done talking, apparently. In the darkness, Darla sat alone on the deck, head bowed.

“He can be such a jerk,” Lucky told Steph, holding on to the gate as if letting go would cause her to fall backward. She could already feel it all slipping through her fingers. She thought that maybe they would leave that night, that her father would wake her and they would steal away. She had tears in her eyes when she looked at Steph. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what? You haven’t done anything wrong,” Steph said, reaching for Lucky’s arm. “I know your dad says it’s all fine, but you must be so scared some days, scared that it’s all just going to…”

“Fall apart,” Lucky whispered. “Yes. I’m scared of that. I’m scared there’ll be nothing I can do to stop it.”

“You need to let us take care of you. We’re family now. It’s kismet that we met, don’t you think?” That was Steph’s favorite word right now, kismet. But no, it had not been kismet. It had been bad luck. Lucky knew this and Steph didn’t, and it had driven a wedge between them, all at once, as thick as one of the pickets in the fence. “My mom wants you to see my pediatrician,” Steph said. “She told me to try to talk to you about it, but I hadn’t yet. Just to make sure you’re okay. Maybe bring it up with your dad, okay?”

“I will,” Lucky said, decisive. “I’m going to talk to him right now.”

She left Steph standing there and walked into the yard, passing Darla, who was still sitting alone in the dark, without saying a word. But then she paused for a moment and looked back. She saw Darla watching her, her expression expectant and open. She didn’t know anything, didn’t suspect.

“You all right, Andi? Want to talk? Come sit here with me.”

“I need to go talk to my dad,” Lucky said, and turned away from Darla.

She found him in the master bedroom, sitting on his side of the bed. “Listen, kiddo, I wanted to stay here longer, I wanted to do that for you, but things are getting a little—”

“Just send me to the pediatrician. He’ll look me over and find me in perfect health, no sign of any illness—which is exactly right, and true, and miraculous. They’ll be so happy. And then we can stay. Maybe forever. Please, Dad? I really want this.”

“You don’t understand,” he said in a low voice. “It’s not that easy. No matter what, we couldn’t be happy here. Not forever.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not human nature to be satisfied. Your happiness would unravel eventually—even if it weren’t already at risk of unraveling because of all the lies we told to be here.” We. Complicity. Partners in crime.

“I’m just a kid,” she said, but the words didn’t ring true. She had never had the chance to be just a kid. That’s why she wanted to stay here. To be a kid who maybe, just maybe, could grow into a regular person. A person like everyone else. Not a thief, not an eleven-year-old con artist.